


Rick's Mantra

by ArcticLucie



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Badly Written Smut, Bathroom Sex, M/M, Rickyl, Sex on a Car, Swearing, Versatile!Rickyl, dancer!Daryl, overuse of glitter, slutty rookie!Rick
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:29:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,806
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4731224
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ArcticLucie/pseuds/ArcticLucie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Rookie cop Rick Grimes goes undercover at a gay bar, but he has a hard time doing his job when he can't keep his eyes off the hot cage dancer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Rick's Mantra

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MermaidSheenaz](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MermaidSheenaz/gifts).



> This might be total shit, idek.
> 
> Both of them are mid-twenties.

_Rick is undercover. Rick Grimes is working and undercover. Rick fucking Grimes is working and undercover in a gay bar. Rick goddamn fucking Grimes is_ not _staring at the smooth body of that half-naked, glitter-covered, sex god rolling his hypnotizingly annoying hips in the goddamn cage in front of me!_

This was Rick’s mantra, and it was mostly a lie.

It was just another ordinary night in Atlanta. Rick fresh out of the police academy, and being the rookie, drew the short end of the stick in regards to his current assignment. He was assured it had nothing to do with his bisexuality, but he had to wonder if Shane didn’t have some sort of say in the matter considering the infuriating giggles the man broke out in every time Rick walked by.

He really didn’t mind working in a gay club. He’d been to his fair share in college, but now that he was out, he felt he was a little too old for the club scene. What he did mind was only being able to drink club soda. There was also that little thing about focusing on the job and not the sinuous body that his eyes kept wandering up and down the length of like a sine wave. 

_Rick Grimes is working and undercover._

His assignment was to pick up the guy picking up guys and taking them to a nearby hotel to rob. Some were assaulted, so he had backup, namely Shane, who was listening intently through an earpiece in an unmarked van. Real high stakes stuff.

But godmotherdickdammit! Why couldn’t he keep his eyes off the Adonis shaking his ass in that tiny pair of gold sparkly hot pants and those white plumose wings that were tied over the most divine set of shoulders Rick had ever seen? 

It was clear the man was no angel judging by the way he worked those hips like sin, seductive eyes a powerful magnet keeping Rick’s own locked onto him. It was also clear that the man was well aware that Rick’s Judas eyes were shining on him like a spotlight. 

At least that’s what he thought when the dancer did this little spin, bend, and shake thang that caused those hot pants to all but disappear into the crevice of his ass. And if he let out a whimper at that, well the music must’ve covered it. 

The bulge in his pants was harder to conceal.

“He’s quite the dancer,” a voice shouted in his ear, but it was only a whisper over the pounding beats and the sound of his cock filling with blood. 

Rick somehow managed to remove his eyes from the gold-plated ass long enough to regard the man attempting to get his attention. He was a well-built man, nice looking, with the fakest smile Rick had every seen. 

Warning bells went off in his head immediately, and even with the barest of descriptions of the suspect, Rick knew deep down in his gut that this was their man.

“Can I buy ya a drink?” the snake asked.

“I really shouldn’t. I’m already passed my limit, gotta drive home,” Rick replied, doing his best to give the man his flirty eyes, but fuck if he hadn’t used most of them up on Goldbottom. “I’m Rick, by the way.”

“Pretty thing like you can call me Phillip,” he replied.

“What do ugly things call ya?”

“They don’t,” the man chuckled. 

“Can I buy you a drink… _Phil?_ ” Rick asked after reminding himself that he had to get this guy to take him to a hotel so they could bust him.

_Rick is undercover._

“I believe you can,” Phil replied, running a tender finger up Rick’s arm. His shiver was one of repulsion, but he played it off well.

He chanced a glance back up at the dancer who was still shaking his ass, body moving in perfect arcs as he undulated his abs to the beat of the techno music. Rick told himself that was the last time. Maybe he’d come back another day to enjoy the scenery, a celebration for catching the douchebag they were looking for.

After Phil had his drink, he fell right into Rick’s trap, or rather, Rick let Phil think he had fallen into his. Just as Rick was settling his tab, the dancer—now freed from his cage—squeezed in between them and reached for a bottle of water from the bar tender. 

Rick’s mouth went dry when that tight stomach slid along the skin of his arm, leaving a glittery mess behind like a brand, or maybe the dancer was marking his territory. They locked eyes for a moment, and he cursed his whole existence that he wouldn’t be leaving with him.

Then the angel moved away leaving Phil’s disgruntled face in its place. 

_Rick goddamn fucking Grimes is_ not _staring at that smooth body!_ his brain whined as he put on an equally fake smile and moved to follow Phil outside.

His gut had been right. As soon as they made it inside the hotel room, Phil—now known as Phillip Blake on the picture of his mug shot—brandished a knife and demanded his money. 

“Fuck you!” Rick shouted, in no mood for his shit after having to leave the club and that Golden Idol behind.

Shane busted in the door before things got too heated, but then Rick had to go down to the station, file the damn paperwork to book the guy—which ended up taking longer than usual because the guy was a tool—and didn’t end up leaving until a little after two in the morning. 

He had hoped to make it back in time for another show, but it just wasn’t meant to be. By that point, he was plum worn out.

*****

Rick went back to the club the next night he had off, but his dancer wasn’t there. The club owner comped his drinks as a thank you for catching Phillip—which was nice—but Rick had been too afraid to ask about the dancer after the gentlemen paid him a few glowing compliments.

He wouldn’t see him again until two weeks later, and in the most unexpected place. 

The cruiser him and Shane shared had started making a weird rattling noise midweek that worsened quickly. The police garage was pretty backed up so instead of waiting three weeks to get it fixed, they took it to a little place down the road.

They pulled in and a man in blue coveralls with a nametag that read [Daryl] came jogging out, his dirty blonde hair blowing in the breeze. “Can I help ya’ll?” he drawled, familiar blue eyes settling on Rick’s, but it took him a moment to place him.

Shane tossed the guy the keys so he could pull the car into the dock. But it wasn’t until Daryl bent over to pick up the keys he fumbled that the shape of that perfect ass became visible through the dark fabric, and like a homing beacon for Rick’s eyes, he was drawn to it like a moth to a flame.

It took all but five minutes before he had his cock buried deep in the tight heat of that golden ass in the bathroom of the garage, oil-stained coveralls discarded on the floor as he rammed into Daryl from behind.

Daryl’s hands were splayed on the mirror that he was watching Rick through, and he was jetting his ass back onto Rick’s cock as he plowed forward with increasingly erratic thrusts. Rick was gripping those heavenly shoulders—fingers digging into corded muscle—when he emptied into the condom he was glad he always carried with him. 

Thank god it hadn’t expired.

He collapsed on Daryl’s back when he was through then jacked him off into the sink as he bit into one of his delicious shoulders. It tasted like sweet release, sweat, and whatever the hell glitter tasted like.

_Rick Grimes is working._

But hot damn! The way the man had bowed his scintillating back when Rick came was better than the show he put on in that cage. He was still mesmerized by the sight when he made it back to the waiting area.

“Shit, Rick! What’d ya do, get attacked by the glitter fairy on your way to the bathroom?” Shane snickered.

He couldn’t even think up a good comeback to that because that’s exactly what had happened. 

They ended up having to leave the car over night, but Rick was okay with that because Daryl had told him to pick him up after his shift ended, and he wasn’t stupid enough to turn that offer down.

Rick Grimes was _not_ working later that night when Daryl had him spread out like a picnic on the hood of the cruiser, wicked tongue jammed so far up his ass he was surprised he hadn’t reached his prostate. All Rick could do was keen and moan, completely at his mercy. 

Just when his knees were starting to ache, Daryl flipped him over onto his back, hooked his knees over those immaculate shoulders, and split him open with his cock. So there he was, staring up at the man as he worked that lithe body like some kind of wonderful sex machine.

_Rick goddamn fucking Grimes is absolutely staring at the smooth body of the naked, glitter-covered, sex god rolling his hypnotizingly beautiful hips inside of me!_

“Mmm, and I thought I looked good on my back,” Daryl said as he pumped into him with wild abandon. He gave a few strokes to Rick’s dick and flicked his thumb over the oozing tip, bringing it to his mouth to suck off the come. 

Rick wanted to say something clever like, ‘I got a cage at the station I could put you in,’ but the image of Daryl doing his thang above him followed by the whimper he let out unwittingly when Daryl pulled out had derailed his train of thought. He was then flipped back over on all fours so when he came, he spattered his seed all over one of the Atlanta PD’s finest broken motor vehicles. 

Daryl pulled out once more and slapped his ass before stripping the condom off and flinging it away. Rick was trying to catch his breath when he felt hot come splash all over his lower back as Daryl finished with an animalistic grunt. 

“Tell me, Officer,” Daryl began as they sat on the hood of the car leaning back against the windshield while they rested in between rounds, “Ya always go for guys who sparkle?”

Rick could only laugh. He definitely had to replace his mantra after that to something a little more appropriate. 

Because _Rick Grimes is always a slut for a man who bathes in glitter._


End file.
